Spring at Heart

Instead of Jon and I going to see Dad tomorrow, it was my husband and I this afternoon, a spur of the moment decision to quickly go and get back, to get back before the big bad winter wolf showed up blowing at our door, threatening to huff and puff, and kill all my lovely spring green and flowers. Will my daffodils freeze tomorrow?

It was a lovely day. Today, not tomorrow, by all rites, should have been our first day of spring. We floated on the air on my husband’s new wheels, with blue skies and warm balmy temperatures surrounding us. I wish I had been able to carry a hint of spring into Daddy’s dark nursing home bedroom. But this is real life I’m living — not no Hollywood script.

We found Daddy hibernating, curled up in his recliner sound asleep, with an oxygen tube up his nose. I looked at him sleeping so soundly — like all parents do when finding their young child asleep. Then I leaned down to wake him — “Hey Daddy, I’m here.” Three more gentle nudges finally caused Dad’s eyes to open slowly. Dad looked slightly startled at first, as he greeted me with that frozen blank stare I’ve come to expect.

I think Dad finally placed me — but Dad never recognized my husband. It’s been August since my husband has accompanied me — time enough for Daddy to forget I have a husband. How long will Daddy know me, I wonder. What if he really didn’t know me today — what if Dad didn’t know that he was my father and that I was his first-born daughter — what if he didn’t recall the life we once shared before he wore Depends that are not dependable, before he wound up in a nursing home, a dire prediction of my mother’s that he once laughed at?

Winter will not loosen its grip on life in this world. The resurrection of spring that awaits most of us will meet Dad in another space beyond time. Spring forward, fall back, who cares? None of that funny timekeeping business bothers Daddy.

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4 thoughts on “Spring at Heart”

I have such difficulty reading these posts, because I know that my day is coming. Tomorrow? The day after? There’s no way to tell.

What I do know is that your visits to your dad count. No matter what. There are more ways of knowing than we can imagine, and he knows, or will know, your presence.

And what a smart daughter he raised, to get on the road so you could get home safely before the bad weather! We’re sharing the system with you, in the form of cold and unbelievable wind. The only place windier in the country today is DC 😉

As hard as they might be for readers to read, they are not at all difficult for me to write. The harder part would be not to write about it… to carry it all within, for the load is so very heavy. To write the truth about Dad is so freeing.

Yes, I think you’re right about the visits. Who, but God, knows what Dad knows and doesn’t know? Or what Dad feels and doesn’t feel. We are such complex creatures — what goes on at the surface only hints at our depths

And even on sad visits, such as this one, there is a peace in showing up, in telling Dad that I love him.

This is so moving… and I can fully relate to it. My parents are in their 90’s, yes, and my Mom has Alzheimer. With Easter drawing close, I’m reminded by your post that there’s an eternal spring awaiting, and herein lies our hope. Thank you for this timely post!

It’s a mixed blessing, to live a life with an aging parent, who suffers from dementia related illness.

On the one hand I remember that Dad with a wicked sense of humor, a Dad who once loved old black and white movies and Frank Sinatra tunes. And now this: a life of quiet waiting, no ability to walk or talk, depending upon others for voice, for basic life and care.

Each visit is bittersweet. Each visit opens up old memories of my own childhood and how Dad tried to shelter me from all things bad. We — my brother, sister and I — endeavor to do the same for him. But maybe his dementia is the ultimate shelter of all.

Yes, there is hope in the eternal hereafter and even in the now, though I wonder if Daddy is living in some blended world of the two. Who but God knows?